Athan Dagnir a'Rina
by Star of the Morning Light
Summary: Harry has finally defeated Voldemort, and now desires nothing more than to have a different life. Now he's in Rivendell with no memories of his past life, meanwhile gaining Sauron's interest.
1. 01

Disclaimer: Star of the Morning Light (author) does not and will not ever claim to own or dream of owning the rights to Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling or the Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien. Don't sue, because I won't hand over my daughter, no matter how cute she is…

"plain speech"

"_elvish"_

_Elven word_

Chapter One: Oh Don't I Wish…

The enemy of the Wizarding world for more than fifty years was now dead. All the pain, suffering...it was all over...

Harry Potter wiped his lip of the blood dribbling down his chin, the thick fluid having become cold from the winter air surrounding him.

Harry looked around him at the grounds of Hogwarts. The beautiful castle still stood like the sanctuary it had proven to become in the years-long war, the cold winter night freezing the bare ground beneath his feet. The blood-soaked soil was slowly icing over at the dropping temperatures, leaving frosted red flakes over the blades of grass.

Bodies of Death Eaters, students and friends, teachers and Aurors littered the Hogwarts grounds, werewolves and vampires and other Dark Creatures had been torn apart and lit aflame, causing the macabre scene around the teenager to become just that much more horrifying. Light always brought things into startling clarity. The glistening of a human heart on the ground, devoid of any beat to keep someone alive. Blood heavy on the air, thick enough to taste on the tongue.

Harry fell to his knees, hands cupped over his mouth. He finally let go and allowed himself to vomit on the blood-stained grass of Hogwarts School, his world fading to black.

The first thing Harry Potter realized when he started to awaken was that it was rather hard to move...oh yea, injuries. Those normally made a habit of hindering movement. Something about not opening old wounds and erasing a mad nurse's hard work.

A familiar sight greeted his eyes as his vision cleared to show a wall decorated with pictures and four-poster beds. The infirmary.

Harry rolled his eyes sitting up. Guilt was tearing at his heart from having killed so many human beings…Harry quickly shook his head, pressing his arm across his chest as he lay against his pillows. They weren't humans. _A man who killed, tortured, and exploited his fellow brothers was a mad dog…and should be dealt the same fate._((Kudos to whoever can tell me where this quote came from!))

Another of Harry's many hard-to-learn lessons. It was supposed to make it easier for him to kill the Death Eaters and Voldemort. It actually did work. Once the guilt of killing humans came over him, he merely thought about all that they had done…of course, the guilt never entirely disappeared, but it helped. At least he wouldn't be driven insane and lose his head like so many others did in the school when they heard if they fought in the Final Battle that they'd have to kill humans.

He didn't think they were weak, oh no…they were some of the more sane ones. He just couldn't deny his fate as the supposed and socially-accepted 'Savior of the Wizarding World'.

He snorted at the thought of his title. It was so stupid. He didn't want to be a savior. He didn't want to be anything other than what he was…But that begged the question: What exactly was he now?

"Well, about time you woke up," said a tired-sounding voice from his bedside.

Harry blinked, looking to the side to see Remus. His tawny hair was still peppered with more gray than should be prevalent in his not-even middle-age, his weathered face only making his whiskey-colored eyes that much more prominent. ((I know in the movies his eyes are blue but I just never really felt that was right...Creative liberty!))

"Remus!" He yelped, hugging the elder man he'd come to see as a father and good friend. If it weren't for the werewolf he probably would not be alive with all he'd taught him…

"Hello, Harry…" he laughed and the sound of joy something Harry cherished from the werewolf. "So, are you sure that you're alright? I mean, you have been out of it for near three days."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sure I'll be fine from now on that Voldemort's gone. But…what am I going to do now?" This had been something niggling at Harry's mind for a good bit of time…with Voldemort gone, what was there for him to do?

"Hm? Harry? What are you talking about…oh? You mean what you're going to do now that the reason you've really been alive this whole time is gone you don't know what to do with your life." Remus smiled sadly and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, grasping his hands in both of his larger ones. "Harry, I know that you'll be able to do anything you want. You wanted to become an Auror, didn't you?"

"Well…yeah. But I don't really know if I can anymore…"

"What?"

"Nothing; just forget I said it. Now, when can I get out of here?" he whimpered.

Remus just laughed.

That sure wasn't a good sign….

Of course, it was another week before Madame Pomfrey would let him out of the Hospital Wing. When he did, things were almost the same as before…only now he had to deal with being slapped on the back so much he was becoming black and blue, and so many people congratulating him for defeating the Dark Lord that he could practically guess exactly what they were going to say by how they started it. Sure, sometimes he was wrong, but it wasn't often.

The biggest surprise was when the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour himself, came to the school during the Christmas Feast.

After a few minutes of talking with McGonagall, Scrimgeour straightened up and held a goblet firmly in his hand. "Would Harry Potter please come up to the Staff table?"

Harry blinked, and the entire Hall went silent.

The Boy-Who-Was-Now-Confused stood up from his seat between Hermione and Ginny and strode up to the Minister. "Yes, sir?"

Scrimgeour cleared his throat and pulled something out of the pocket of his gray cloak. "Harry James Potter, I, Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, do hereby award you with a special award that has never before been given. In honor of your will to save our home, our world and our way of life and to teach us all a good, hard lesson, it is my duty and privilege, neigh, the honor to present to you the Order of Merlin, Unity Class. For in saving us you used the bravery of a Gryffindor, the cunning of a Slytherin, the selflessness and understanding of a Hufflepuff and the knowledge and wisdom of a Ravenclaw. With this you shall be the first and hopefully last recipient of such an award, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes must have widened to the size of the plates on the table. "Wh-what? I – I – I don't…I don't know…I don't know what to say…." He stuttered, completely floored. They had created a new Order of Merlin? For HIM?

Scrimgeour held out a glass case, which held what seemed to be a wand. It was beautiful fourteen-inch cherry wood with silver and gold inlaid into it in the forms of thin, twisting vines. Entangled in the vines were the very symbols of Harry's supposed 'winning traits'...a golden lion with ruby eyes and tail, a silver snake with emeralds set into the eyes and scales, a badger of pure topaz and obsidian and a raven of sapphire and onyx.

"Th-Thank you, Minister…but I," Harry couldn't seem to get all of the words out but Professor McGonagall cut in before he could finish his refusal.

"Mr. Potter. I don't think it wise for you to refuse this. In fact, we all insist upon you accepting the Order. We are all very proud of you, Mr. Potter. Our lives were in your hands and we could not have been safer. You saved us all. Now, accept your Order and we shall all return to the feast." She sat back down.

Harry smiled softly. He never really could argue with the Transfiguration Professor/Headmistress of Hogwarts. "Thank you, Minister Scrimgeour. I accept." He bowed and took it gently into his hands.

Scrimgeour actually smiled. "Harry, my boy, I'm proud of you. Hopefully no such kind of danger shall ever walk the Earth. But if it does, we know we can count on you." With that, Scrimgeour left in a swirl of robes, striding out of the Great Hall.

And hopefully out of Harry's life forever.

Hurriedly, Harry returned to his seat, and finished eating, still pretty much in shock.

Later that night found Harry sitting at the window of the Boys' Seventh Year dorm, the window wide open.

He sighed, petting Hedwig. "Oh Hedwig…what am I going to do? I mean, everyone expects me to now be some modern-day-save-the-day-superhero. How am I going to try and have the normal life I've wanted for so long? I just…" he sighed, pausing in his petting. "I just wish I could live somewhere where I'm not some famous savior. To just be…normal. Or just not be Harry Potter anymore. But somebody else entirely…if only wishes came true, eh, Hedwig?"

She hooted softly in response, nudging his hand with her beak.

Harry smiled softly, and allowed sleep to take him right there on the windowsill. His last thought rang throughout his head even as he fell into the world of sleep…

_I wish I could stop being Harry Potter and the Savior…I wish I could live a life where people don't know me…_

But our dear Harry should know by now to watch what you wish for…as it could come true quite easily.

In the High Heavens two women stared into a pool of water, watching the sleeping young man as he made his wish…

"Why don't we grant his wish?" asked a blonde to a redhead beside her.

"Are you insane? Do you know what father would do if we messed with the mortals again, Arian!" the redhead screeched, red curls bouncing around her round, pretty face and emerald eyes. Maier was a head taller than her blonde counterpart, her figure definitely on the curvier side. Her red hair was pulled back behind her head with a mother-of-pearl clip, falling in a waterfall down the middle of her back.

Both women were dressed in matching white gowns, trimmed in gold. Traditional, old-fashioned one-shouldered toga gowns.

The woman now identified as Arian shrugged. "So what? Come on! We'll do everything for this one! And I like him. He's so adorable! We'll erase his memory of this life so that the only thing he remembers will be fleeting images of his parents and his two friends. Those will be the only things he will remember. Come on, Maier!"

Maier sighed. "Fine. But just this once. If father finds out, it's all on your head!"

"Isn't it always?" the other woman grumped, turning back to the pool.

The two joined hands over the mirror, the image of Harry's sleeping face embedded into the glass of the mirror. Soft words spilled from their lips, winding around Harry's soul as his body left the world it had once been such a part of…and was now leaving forever.

The goddesses wound their magic over him, imbibing him with their powers to bring about their will. There were sacrifices that had to be made, his memory pulled from him in ribbons, coiled into the deep recesses of his mind. But a tie to the world had to be created...And so the goddesses set to true work, readying the body of Harry Potter, no longer known as such, for it's arrival in it's new home.


	2. 02

Chapter Two: Upon the Hills in Rivendell

The trees of Rivendell swayed this way and that, forced to bend beneath the strength of a breeze that blew away the passing storm that had taken Rivendell, the court of Elrond, by force.

Sighing under her breath, a dark-haired elven maid made her way through the forests of Rivendell, feet making no sound against the fallen leaves and dirt of the forest floor.

To her own admittance, her life had never been quite as boring as it was at the moment…She had not seen Aragorn in many months and hoped for him to come home soon…

Her horse paused, making soft sounds as it kicked its feet gently, as if trying to take a few steps back.

Arwen's brow knotted together, pulling gently on the reins to lead the stubborn thing towards the spring she knew was nearby…

But as she neared the spring, she paused, staring in shock at the sight before her. Her Evenstar necklace, her immortality and her guide, was glowing.

The waterfall's roar filled her ears, the water's spray misting her gently as her dark blue eyes widened, waiting for the shock of what she was seeing to pass. _"Oh…in the name of Elendiel…"_

There, on the rock in the middle of the spring was a boy. No, a young man. He looked about seventeen from where she stood, maybe a little older. Quickly, she ran into the water, feeling as if something was drawing her to this boy.

Arwen grabbed the lithe boy, dragging him off the rock and into the water, making certain to keep his head above the water; she backed out of the water and shifted him in her arms. He was very light and he seemed so skinny. It had to be unhealthy for a human to be so skinny.

Judging from the round shells of his ears, he was a human. What was a human doing in Rivendell? How had he gotten there and where was he from? There weren't that many human villages near Rivendell.

Arwen whistled, calling out in Elvish for her horse, hefting the boy onto the saddle and leading her steed back to the Citadel.

"Father! Father!" she called, walking through the halls of Rivendell's many twisting halls until she found her father. The boy was light, certainly, but he wasn't exactly a feather either…she'd had to call one of their guards to carry the boy for her…

Lord Elrond turned to face his daughter, only to pause. _"Why are you carrying a human with you? Where did you find him?"_ he asked quite bluntly.

_"I found him in the springs…"_ She said, her voice low and even as it always was with her beloved and strict father. She did not know how he would take to the young human…but she felt as if she was being drawn closer and closer to the boy like the pull of gravity to the ground.

Lord Elrond's eyes narrowed as he looked over the boy. _"Take him to a room. Watch over him until he wakes up."_

Arwen nodded, motioning for the guard to follow her as he carried the boy off to an empty guest room and emptying him into the satin sheets and soft comforter of the bed.

As she sat and removed the soaking wet clothes from his body, she was able to look at him for the first time.

His hair was the same black as hers, but wilder and probably impossible to tame. His skin was a pale color that slightly worried her. Either the boy was very sick or he didn't get enough sun. The skin was the color of pale peaches and cream. His body was very thin and lithe, but there were obvious muscles in his body usually covered by baby fat that he was apparently quickly losing. That meant that more than likely he was not yet a man. Still just a boy…

Very quickly, Arwen grabbed a spare outfit probably left over from the twins and donned it on his body, then covered his body with the thick comforter and sheets, making sure he was comfortable.

She didn't know why, but she wanted him to be comfortable. She had a feeling about him that was rare for her heart...

She ran a slender finger down his pale cheek, reveling in the envy-worthy softness of his skin. He looked so…peaceful while he was asleep. Of course, she'd never seen him awake, but she had the feeling that he wasn't a very calm person. He looked like a child. That was what he reminded her of. A child.

She smiled, and sat back in her chair, content in merely watching the man-child sleep.

Back in the timeless expanse of the Heavens, Arian grinned. "There we go. She found him. Now all we need to do is wait for everything else in that world to run its' course. Hopefully he won't have to go through too much."

Maier smiled as well. "Yes. That was quite a lot of fun. And father didn't find out about it. I guess because we used the least amount of our magic as possible. But you do know that his memories will catch up with him. We can suppress emotional memories from his life. But the magical ones where he used his wand and his spells…we can't hide that. It will probably be maddening for him…he'll recall his magic, but nothing else…He'll never remember who he used to be."

"And therefore have a newfound appreciation for the new life we've given him!" Arian chirped.

Maier rolled her eyes. "You just never give up."

"Nope."

He groaned, blinking. What was going on? Where was he?

He sat up, despite the loss of warmth from the thick comforter covering him.

_"Ah, so you're awake."_

He blinked, staring at the girl by the bed he was in.

Long black hair fell in soft waves around her face, pale as alabaster. A red velvet dress donned her pale body, hanging loosely around her as it pooled in a thick puddle on the white marble floor.

"Wh-Who are you?" he whispered, slightly scared and yet intrigued by the pointy-eared girl.

Ah, so he doesn't speak Elvish. "I am Arwen. And before you ask where you are, which I know you will, you are in the House of Elrond in Rivendell." She said, trying out the language of Men to see if that was what he spoke. Of course there was a very good chance he was a missing child from a nearby village or something…

"Rivendell? What's that? And who's 'Elrond'?" He was very much confused. What was going on? Where was he, really? Who was he? How come he couldn't remember anything? What was his name? What was he? "What is going on?" he whispered again, getting more and more confused by the second.

Arwen's eyes narrowed. "Do you not know what has happened to you?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I found you on a rock in the middle of a spring. I took you back here because…well, I don't really know why I brought you here. I guess I just had a feeling about you. Like you were special." She smiled. "Now, could you tell me your name?"

"My name?"

"Yes." She giggled. The little boy was so cute!

"I…I don't know my name. I guess I don't have one."

"Oh? Well…that certainly isn't very good. Can you not remember anything? Anything at all?"

He shook his head. "No."

Before Arwen could say anything else, the doors to the room burst open and an aged man with black hair partially tied back and wearing splendid cream-colored robes swept into the room. _"So, I am to understand that he has awakened."_

_"Yes Father."_

_"What is the child's name? What village does he hail from?"_

_"He cannot remember anything about his life before he woke up. He does not remember his name. Father?"_

_"Yes?"_

The boy continued to sit there, staring at the bed sheets as they continued their conversation.

He couldn't understand what they were saying, and he didn't want to strain his brain trying.

_"What if we were to…take care of him?"_

_"Take care of him? You would have the human live here with us?"_

_"Yes."_ It would not be the first time it had happened…

_"Daughter, you know that only elves or members of the Elven race may live in Rivendell."_

_"But what if we made him part of our family? I can just…I feel something about this boy. He's special. I can feel it. Father, he has nowhere else to go."_ Arwen's tone was becoming desperate.

She did not understand what was happening to her…she was never quite this emotional about anything in her life…

Elrond sighed. He hated Arwen when she was like this. She had such a large, kind heart. Finding this lost little boy was perfect for her. She had always wanted to expand their family… _"He may live with us. But if I hear that a group of humans has started looking for him for some reason or another, he will go with them. Understood?"_

_"Understood, father."_ The bright smile on Arwen's face was well worth the frustration she had just put him through.

Elrond turned to the boy on the bed. He had the delicate features of the elves…but his blood was human. And one look into the young child's bright, emerald green eyes made his heart lurch. There was a dark glow in his eyes. The eyes of those who were lost.

"I am Lord Elrond. My daughter has explained your predicament to me and I have decided that you will stay here with us until such a time as you see fit to leave or someone comes to retrieve you."

The boy nodded, not quite understanding his predicament but managing to understand that he was being helped and given a place to stay...

"Father, I believe he will need a name. We cannot just call him…well, 'Boy' or anything of that ilk."

Elrond nodded. "Yes. You are right." Elrond disappeared into thought for a few moments, studying the boy.

"Harroshid. Child of the Lost. (I know that that's not what that name really means. But hey, I made the name up; I make up what it means. There.) That shall be your name."

The newly-named Harroshid gave the ghost of a smile, as if he wasn't used to such a gesture on his face. "Harroshid…" he smiled. "Thank you, Lord Elrond."

"Yes. Arwen, I expect you to tell him the behavior expected of him whilst he is here and to show him around. I have important matters to attend to." Elrond left, leaving Arwen and the newly-dubbed Harroshid alone.

Arwen smiled at him. "Well, are you hungry?"

His stomach growled in response. He blushed.

Arwen laughed her laughter like the jingling of a thousand tiny bells. "Well, that answers it. Come on, let's get something to eat."

Harroshid climbed out of the bed and held onto Arwen's hand, letting her lead him through the twisting corridors of Rivendell, showing him where everything was.

After eating a filling dinner of some odd roots and berries, Harroshid was allowed to go to bed.

As he slipped into a pair of pajamas given to him by one of the servants of the palace, he couldn't help but think that he had to be pretty lucky to live here in Rivendell. And he hoped he could continue to do so.

"Harroshid! Harroshid! Time to wake up." Arwen cooed, shaking Harroshid's shoulder.

Harroshid groaned, shoving his head roughly under his pillow.

Arwen rolled her eyes. _I really hope he isn't this hard to wake up every morning._

Then she remembered the one way to get any man out of bed. "Harroshid, breakfast is ready."

That tactic always worked, if the mostly-awake young human sitting in the bed was anything to go by…

Later that day found Arwen and Harroshid sitting by the same spring she had discovered him at.

The two were laughing.

For some reason, Harroshid's laughter was contagious. When he smiled, you couldn't help but smile with him and laugh with him.

For some odd, unknown reason, Arwen felt very much attached to the young man. She didn't know why, but she knew that she never wanted any harm to ever come to him. And she knew that, should it come to it, she would defend him with her life.

"Okay, Harroshid. I believe I should start teaching you how to speak Elvish."

"Really?" Harroshid's eyes sparkled with interest. The Elvish language was such a beautiful one; he really did want to know how to speak it.

"Yes, now, first off, how to say 'Hello'…"

And so the days went, Arwen and Harroshid spending every waking moment that they could spare together. Arwen teaching Harroshid how to speak her language, and also trying to help him gain his memories back.

Arwen loved spending time with the young boy, and she cherished every day, as a group of humans could come along and take him back.

…but it never happened.

Spring turned to summer…summer turned to Fall…no one came. There were no words from other lands of a missing young man that looked like their Harroshid. Harroshid gained their language gradually, but he was a fast learner. He could now at least hold a decent conversation in Elvish, broken though it was.

_"Father, I am beginning to think that no one will come for Harroshid."_ Arwen said, staring at her father's back as he stared at the wisteria trees lining the Citadel.

_"Yes, I had noticed. What do you propose I do? Let him stay with us until he grows old, Arwen? What would you have me do?"_ The boy was not Aragorn, one gifted with long life.

Arwen paused. Ever since the beginning of the third season since he'd come to live with them, she'd been thinking. She never wanted to let Harroshid go. He was too precious to her. She had always wanted more siblings. Harroshid would be a perfect addition to their family. He had the same black hair as those in the family, and his features made him appear Elvish at first glance. Only upon closer inspection would you find him to be human. He also got along with the twins just a bit too well for her liking…

_"Arwen, tell me what it is you are thinking…"_

_"Father…I could not bear to let Harroshid go. I…I have the feeling that I want to protect him for the rest of my life. That he is very important to me. For whatever reason, I will follow what I feel. Because it is in my heart and mind that I feel this. Even within my soul."_

Elrond sighed. _"I knew you would not let him go. But I have had a vision for Harroshid."_

Arwen remained silent, waiting to hear of her father's precognition.

_"Harroshid wore the Evenstar about his throat, glowing with the light of a thousand suns. He appeared to be of a human age a few years older than what we see now. Yet his eyes were older than his physical age as if he'd survived hundreds of years. Behind him were nine others, cast into shadow. Harroshid was covered in blood; yet I could tell that none of it was his own. In his hand was an Elven-forged sword. He appeared to be one of us…it not for the shells of ears he still bore."_

Arwen smiled. _"Maybe that is our sign. He was sent to us, Father. We cannot make him become an elf. But we can bring him into the family. Whatever you decide to do, Father, I hope that it will be for the best of Harroshid and Rivendell."_ Arwen strolled out of the Citadel, leaving her father to his thoughts.

That night after dinner, as with any other day, Harroshid could be found in the wisteria garden behind his room. He spent his nights reading over another book of Elvish history, learning the ways, why's and how's of the people he found himself surrounded by.

Elrond stepped silently across the grass of the garden, no sign of hesitation or fault in his step. _"Hello, Harroshid."_

The young man jumped, green eyes startled for the moment before he relaxed upon recognition of the figure before him. _"Oh, hello, Lord Elrond."_

Elrond nodded. _"You have been here for almost a full year, Harroshid. And still is appears that no one is looking for you." _As he spoke, he walked slowly around the bench that Harroshid inhabited, dark eyes on the human's form.

Harroshid shook his head, as if resigned. _"I had a feeling that no one would. I…I feel like anyone that could have cared for me before this is…in a different world, almost. They appear that far away."_

_"Yes well, that may very well be. I spoke with Arwen today and she spoke on your behalf for you to remain in Rivendell. As you are aware, it is very rare that a Man is invited to make a life inside of Rivendell. Due to Arwen's request, you will be gifted with this as well as my blessing to remain and call Rivendell your home."_ Elrond reached into the pocket of his heavy cloak and pulled out a long, thin box, handing it to the young man before him.

Harroshid took it, staring in confusion up at the Lord of Rivendell as he lifted the lid, only to gasp.

There, against a bed of dark velvet, was the Light of Evenstar. _"But…My lord…"_

_"Arwen wants you to become one of the Undomiel family. You have no one else to turn to, it would appear and I see no reason to disagree."_ Elrond said quietly, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. _"This necklace is inlaid with the magic of the Elves. Your life is now tied to hers. Your life will now match that of Arwen's in length."_

The dark-haired human seemed to be in a state of shock, before finally managing to clear his throat. With shaking fingers, he let the chain settle over his head and settle around his throat. The Evenstar was warm, even through the thick fabric of his black tunic, directly against his heart.

"Thank you…Father."

Gone now were the days of Harroshid's life as a human. Now he would forever be Harroshid Undomiel, son of Rivendell.


	3. 03

Chapter Three: Forming the Fellowship

Three full years had passed since the welcoming of Harroshid Undomiel into the arms of Rivendell.

Three years of love, laughter…but now it had been tinged with something bitter. Father had been contemplative, seeming almost to worry about a vision of the future…

Now, Harroshid remained seated in his usual seat in the gardens behind his bed chambers, a book firmly in place in his lap. The young human had begun to grow, lengthening his body from the miniscule 5' 3" to a decent 5' 7". He was still rather short for a man of just passed twenty but…One took what one was given.

His hair had begun to grow out, pulled behind his head in a high ponytail, where it still brushed his shoulders. Arwen had a habit of playing with the ponytail itself, trying to braid it when she could…She swore he'd be cuter if he grew his hair out.

Yes that was exactly what a man wanted – to be called cute. Right.

As it stood, the city of Rivendell was lit with the light of day, glowing white against the stones of the citadel.

Stopping short of changing the page, he strained his ears to listen. He'd thought he'd heard a horse…

Sounds of a commotion began to reach his ears from the courtyard. Shutting his book, the twenty-one-year-old left it on his bench, walking briskly towards the courtyard only to stop short.

Arwen…she'd been missing for almost a full week now. She'd merely said something about Aragorn as she readied her horse and took off. It had rightfully ticked him off a bit.

But why had she gone, why was she back and…what the hell was that small thing some of the guards were bringing to a guest room?

The being was a good foot and a half shorter than him, with curly brown hair that was damp with sweat, wrapped up in many blankets as if to fight off a chill. But those blue eyes that stared blankly out of the pale face…They were almost dead…

Shaking off the chill that ran down his spine, he veritably ran down the steps and swept his missing sister into an exuberant hug. She was one of the few people that got hugged by him…the elves were not an unusually touchy race. _"Arwen. Sister where have you been? What was that person the guards took—,"_ he began to question before Arwen put a hand to his lips, eyes quirked in amusement.

"_All in good time, young one. Father will explain all once he has finished healing the Halfling."_ His elder sister spoke softly, hardly winded but with a healing cut upon her cheekbones. Taking his hand in one of her gloved own, she led him back up the steps where he'd entered. _"I take it you were worried, brother?"_

Rolling his wide, green eyes, the dark-haired man was one to act exasperated. _"Think that if you wish, sister." _He drawled out, walking with her and his hand firmly clasped around her own.

As his sister spun her story, he couldn't help but smile fondly. A small dash of jealousy filled him but he quickly squashed it. His sister was the one allowed to leave…Harroshid had never been allowed out of Rivendell before. Four years and Rivendell was all he'd seen of life…sometimes he figured it was enough but something inside of him screamed for something more.

Within a few days after the arrival of Frodo Baggins the Hobbit, a handful of other hobbits arrived on the tail of Aragorn, the Ranger Strider.

Seeing his sister interacting with the tall, dark-haired tracker, he let his mind wander back to when he'd first met the man.

_Flashback_

Arwen and Harroshid sat laughing on a marble bench on Harroshid's balcony when Arwen froze.

_"Hm? Arwen? What's wrong, sister?"_ asked Harroshid, confused.

A bright smile spread over her face. _"He's here."_ She swept out of the room before he could blink, leaving him to chase after her.

_"Who's here? Sister!"_

Harroshid raced after his fleeing sister but froze in place when he reached the Entrance Courtyard.

There, on the back of a beautiful black mare, was the most ruggedly handsome man he had ever seen. Black-brown hair, messy and untamed, fell a hair past his shoulders, framing the tan face with a few days stubble on his cheeks and chin. He wore a rough cotton tunic and breeches the color of earth, setting off his hair and his eyes, which were a hazel-gray.

He climbed down from the mare, only to be swept into a hug by Arwen, who kissed him soundly.

Harroshid blinked. He didn't know his sister had a suitor...

Arwen finally let the man go, and they shared a few words that he couldn't hear.

The man noticed Harroshid, _"And who would this young shadow be, Arwen?"_

_"Oh! Harroshid, I did not know you followed me."_ She laughed lightly.

_"Well, you ran out of the room…I was worried…"_ he mumbled, slightly agitated at being out of the loop but also rather shy. This was the first person who wasn't an Elf he'd ever met.

"_Oh_." She blushed, having the decency to look sheepish for worrying her little brother. _"Aragorn, this is Harroshid, my new little brother."_

Aragorn smiled. _"Well, it's nice to meet you, Harroshid."_ He held out his hand for Harroshid to shake, making the younger man stare at it with trepidation clear in his green eyes before he took the larger, rougher hand and shook the older man's hand, nodding his own greeting.

He had to admit that he was surprised that their friendship had grown as it had…

Harroshid sighed, running a hand through his ponytail. Harroshid stood on his balcony with his sister, staring down at the courtyard and gardens below. It had taken him a few days, but Arwen had finally stopped receiving sour looks from their father for leaving Rivendell in the middle of the night for more than just a few days. Of course, all the worrying over Frodo and the Ring of Power overrode their worry of her getting killed or worse.

He'd heard his father talking to Gandalf the Grey, and his father had come to the conclusion that the Ring could not stay in Rivendell.

The young Hobbit known as Frodo held the Ring? Well, there was a surprise for you.

It had taken a while to get the story, but he had finally learned about what was fully going on and the danger that Rivendel itself was currently in. No wonder his father had been so worried before…

Harroshid watched as the young Hobbit, Frodo, conversed with his friends in the gardens.

He smiled as he took in their interaction. Playful, bantering and jibing each other. He wished he could have friends like that. Sure, he had Arwen and Aragorn. But…they weren't what you would call 'friends' per se. You didn't call family members friends.

Samwise Gamgee as he was called noticed that they were being watched and looked up to catch Harroshid's eyes.

But he was gone.

Harroshid stood at the Entrance Hall, watching many groups of people come into Rivendell on horseback.

Dwarves, Elves, and Men flooded through the open gates of Rivendell.

One particular elf caught his eyes.

He was blonde, and looked as feminine as he could without being a female himself.

_"Arwen? Who is that? Who are they?"_ he asked to his sister who was standing beside him.

_"They are the Elves of the Woodland Realm. There are also the Dwarves of the High Mountains. And the Men of Gondor. They are here to aid us."_

"_But will they succeed, sister? I don't have a good feeling about this…It's as if we're just going along to someone else's story…"_

He received no answer.

The next day, Harroshid hid in the branches of the tree beside the council terrace where his father and the others all sat in a semi-circle. Eavesdropping wasn't very well smiled upon in Rivendell…but hey, when you're curious, some would do anything to quench that curiosity.

Elrond stood at the head of this large circle of people, a hodgepodge mix to say the least, the steady intensity of his voice brooking no room for argument. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old…you've been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The young Hobbit stood from his seat, all-too-aware of everyone's eyes upon him as he placed the small golden trinket upon the pedestal before he scuttled back to his seat next to the Grey Wizard.

"So it is true…" Harroshid heard the Gondorian leader mutter. The man, Boromir, stood and spoke. "In a dream…I saw the Eastern sky grow dark…but in the West a pale light lingered…a voice was crying: "Your doom is near at hand. Isildur's bane is found." The tall man was red-haired and broad, with what most could call laughing eyes. There was already the evidence of laugh lines at the edges of his mouth and eyes…But his hand was reaching as if to touch the ring, the black-gloved hand threateningly close to the golden trinket.

Gandalf stood abruptly, shocking Harroshid almost out of his tree, and started to yell in a tongue that Harroshid had never before wanted to hear…the tongue of Mordor…

Finally Boromir sat and Elrond spoke, voice terse and his entire body tense. "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris."

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond…for the Black Speech of Mordor…may yet be heard…in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil."

"It is a gift." Contradicted Boromir as he stood once again. Everyone was staring at him. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor…kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of **our** people are **your** lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him." The man had charisma, Harroshid would give him that…

Aragorn then broke in with words of actual sense. "You cannot wield it. None of us can. The Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" asked Boromir, scorn obvious in his voice.

Suddenly, the blonde elf that Harroshid had seen before stood up, angry. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

"Aragorn?" Boromir asked, shocked as he took in the image of Aragorn. "This is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Broke in the elf again, one who seemed to almost enjoy letting others know their own wrong-doings.

God he was just a talkative one, eh?

_"Sit down, Legolas."_ Said Aragorn, gesturing for him to sit down, which he did.

"Gondor has no king," muttered Boromir as he made his way to his seat for the second time that day. "Gondor needs no king."

Seated in his seat like a petulant child, Boromir seemed to be rather sour about the whole encounter.

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it," said Gandalf, sighing resignedly.

Elrond stood, "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

There was a moment of silence but then one of the dwarves stood and hefted up his axe.

"Well what are we waiting for?" he grunted, swinging at the Ring, only to have his axe shatter and him to land on his back on the white stone of the Terrace.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." He paused. "One of you…must do this."

There was utter silence until the big-mouth Boromir decided to throw in his two cents again.

_Goddess, doesn't this man know when to shut up!_

"One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the Great Eye is ever-watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly."

Legolas stood again. "Did you hear nothing that Lord Elrond said? The Ring must be destroyed."

Gimli interrupted, angry. "And I suppose you think you are the one to do it?" he stood.

Boromir stood once again. "And what if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will die before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!"

The elves in the room, minus Lord Elrond, stood and had to be held back by Legolas's outstretched arms…of course, Harroshid had to restrain himself from strangling the dwarf that dared insult his family.

"Never trust an elf!"

All of this started an uproar that could not be stopped until Frodo stood, yelling "I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor…"

Everyone quieted down; all eyes on Frodo once more. The Halfling looked as if he wanted to sink back down into the white stones of the terrace.

"Though…I do not know the way…" He whispered, blue eyes staring pleadingly at the group of Council members around him.

Gandalf nodded sagely, stepping out of the group of people to stand beside the small man. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins…for as long as it is yours to bear." He clapped his hand on the small shoulder and stood behind him.

Aragorn stood and gave the brave little thing a smile. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." He stepped forward, kneeling before the Hobbit as he took hold of his hands. "You have my sword."

Harroshid blinked. _What the hell is Estel thinking?_

The blond elf stood up once again, this time heading towards the Hobbit everyone seemed to be gathering behind. "And you have my bow."

The young elf smirked. An elf would be going with them. That would ensure a higher success rate, surely. Did he sound conceited about his family's race just then? Oh well, it was true.

"And my axe." Growled Gimli. _Like that really makes a great difference…_Harroshid rolled his eyes. Dwarves were such simple-minded creature. Drinking, digging, war, and sex. The four paths of a dwarves mind.

Boromir stepped towards them, his footfalls quiet as he circled in front of the hodgepodge little group. "You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council…then Gondor shall see it done."

"Oi!" The redheaded hobbit, Sam, suddenly jumped out from behind some shrubbery, running up to stand beside Frodo. "Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me."

"Indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not…" Elrond said lightly, pretending to be serious when Harroshid knew he was fighting to not smile.

The other two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, jumped out and said that they'd help too.

"Besides, oou need people of intelligence on this sort of…mission …quest …thing." The youngest Hobbit said, arms crossed over his chest, puffed out as if trying to make himself look bigger.

"Well that rules you out, Pip," muttered Merry, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Nine companions. Very well. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." Elrond stated, chin raised as he surveyed the group of nine people…inwardly, he began to think back to the vision he'd had of Harroshid three years ago.

"Great. Where are we going?" asked Pippin, and everyone stared at him like he was insane, Harroshid almost falling out of his chair in the tree. Was this boy stupid or just blonde at the roots?

That night, Harroshid sat on the edge of Aragorn's bed, watching him pack.

_"Well, I hope you had fun listening to us bicker."_ Stated Aragorn. "_And don't even think that I didn't know you weren't there. Black and silver usually stand out quite easily against the green and gold of trees."_ He stated jokingly, making Harroshid have the decency to look sheepish.

_"So…you knew I was there?"_

_"Yes. And don't even think about trying to follow me."_

Great. That would start a good argument…

_"But why not?"_ asked Harroshid. _"I could help!"_

_"No, you could not."_ Aragorn said, closing the bag as he finished packing.

_"Why? I've gotten better with my sword! And my staff is becoming better!"_ Harroshid hated it when they got into debates about how strong he was.

_"Look, Ha'ri,_ (at this Harroshid broke in _'Don't Ha'ri me!'_), _I wouldn't bring you even if your father would let you. This is much too dangerous of a mission for a young one like you to be going on."_

Harroshid's eyes hardened, growling low in his throat. _"What you're saying is I'm weak and will get in the way. Have you SEEN the Hobbits?"_

…The elfling had a point.

Aragorn sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. He hadn't meant it like that. _"Ha'ri I did not mean it like that and you know it."_

_"Yes you did!"_ Harroshid jumped up from the bed, staring Aragorn in the eyes. _"You think that I'm a weak and slow little boy that everyone wants to protect from the darkness in the world. If that's the truth then why have you even been teaching me weaponry?"_

Aragorn noticed many things in the room shaking uncontrollably, as if an earthquake had taken hold of the room. Actually all of Rivendell was experiencing this 'earthquake'.

_"Harroshid! Harroshid, calm down!"_

But it seemed that calm was not in the cards for Harroshid, his body beginning to shake, the energies radiating off the young man proving that he was the source of the current shakes.

Aragorn sighed, and did the only thing he knew of to do when Harroshid was angry. He hugged him. He grasped his arms around Harroshid's slim back, pulling him to his chest so that Harroshid was struggling against his arms, pushing at his chest to try and get away from the stronger grip of the older man. _"Shhh…it's okay. I don't want you to go because I'm afraid that I won't be able to protect you. I'm going to have to be keeping an eye on the Hobbits and on Boromir. I'll also have to try and stop Gimli and Legolas from tearing each other apart. And if I can't keep an eye on you, you will most likely get hurt. And I don't want that."_ He smiled down at the young man, and kissed him on the forehead as Arwen did on many an occasion. _"Now, say that you won't try and wrangle your way into leaving with us tomorrow."_

Harroshid sighed, a deep set of resentment settling into his stomach. _"I won't."_

_"Good boy. Why don't you go play with Frodo and the others? I'm sure they'd welcome the company."_ Aragorn suggested, gently pushing him towards the door so that the Ranger could sleep for the trip tomorrow.

Harroshid nodded and left the room, escaping to the gardens again. The sun was still up, yet it was setting to go to sleep and allow the moon to handle the light for a while.

Harroshid stretched out, popping the muscles in his back. The setting sun felt so good against his skin, as did the soft grass.

Small specks of the fading light dappled over his face, streaming through the leaves of the tall tree above him.

_"You're here again?"_ Came the calm voice of his father.

Harroshid laughed. _"Yeah. I'm running from Estel and the Hobbits."_

_"Harroshid, I take it you were the source of that quake just now?"_ Asked his father, standing off to the side of the other male with his arms crossed over his chest.

The silence from his adopted son was all the answer that was needed. This was not the first time that this had happened.

Sighing, he shook his head, inwardly amused at the young man's wondrous powers…He had a habit of summoning things to his hand just by reaching for it or things shaking and shattering when he gained in anger.

"_You must watch your temper, Harroshid. Your sister has asked me to track you down to see if you were sulking about not joining the Fellowship."_

Surprised eyes rose up to meet those of his father, sighing in resignation. _"Am I transparent or something?"_ He growled, running his hands through his loose hair.

His father sighed, _"Harroshid, you need to understand. We already have one of our own kind to help with this endeavor and they will do what needs to be done."_ Elrond's heart began to drop, fearing that what he'd seen three years ago was coming to pass sooner than he'd expected…

_"Why can he do it alone with them? I can't help it father, something is telling me that I need to-"_ Harroshid's plea was broken off with his father's suddenly sharp tone.

_"Harroshid! You are not going and that is final!"_

Harroshid's eyes widened, slightly shocked as Elrond never yelled at him before. He looked down at the emerald green grass, defeat clear in his eyes. _"All right, father_…"

Elrond doubted that this was the end of it. His foresight had never been wrong before. "_Good. Now, why don't you go –"_

_"Play with the hobbits?"_

His father merely raised an eyebrow in question, wondering at how the young man had known what he was going to say.

_"Estel."_

_"Ah. Well, there's one man you'll listen to. Now go."_

Harroshid sighed again and left to his room, not really feeling up to dealing with the hobbits and their jabbering over what they thought they might run into on this 'exciting adventure'.

All he had to do right now was either sleep or try and concoct a way to join the others in their journey…hmmm…the latter sounded like a very tempting choice…

The next morning dawned with a sense of solemn pride as the entirety of Rivendell and its visitors had gathered in the citadel to bid the Fellowship good travels.

Harroshid waved gently to Aragorn, nodding to him as the Fellowship began to state their goodbyes.

Frodo walked over, smiling at the boy who was quickly-becoming a good friend of his. "Harroshid. Don't look so sad. We'll come back as soon as we can."

Harroshid nodded. "I know, Frodo…just…try to come back in one piece, okay?"

Frodo nodded, shaking hands with the other male before rejoining the group.

"I'll be seeing you soon…" Harroshid whispered, a soft smirk on his face as he watched

Elrond bid them a final good-bye and they set off, disappearing from their sights.

That night, when everyone was asleep, Harroshid swept out of his room, a bag over his shoulder filled with everything he'd need.

Sneaking into the stables, he mounted Kinamonu and set off as quietly as he could until he was passed the gates of Rivendell and on the Road.

Now, he was going to find Aragorn and the others.

No matter what got in his way.


	4. 04

Chapter Four: Pass of Caradhras

Harroshid collapsed against the ground, slightly uncomfortable with the feeling of the rough bark of a tall tree rubbing against his back. The breeze flowing through the air felt good against the sweat on his brow. He wasn't used to this much exertion…He had to give his horse a break lest he break him.

He'd been following the Fellowship for a good few days now and he was starting to wonder if he'd ever really catch up. He didn't know where they were going; he just knew that their footprints were rather distinctive.

He had had his doubts at first, before he remembered that the Fellowship would have to go slower than their true potential due to the hobbits. The hobbits would slow them down because they weren't very strong physically and obviously not used to such long days without resting. He would have to count on the additional weight in the group to be able to catch up with them.

Harroshid's eyes traveled over to Kinamonu, the beautiful mare munching on the tall grass in the shaded area of the nearby trees.

Harroshid sighed, looking up at the darkening sky, seeing the peaks of the tall mountain…the Pass of Caradhras. He recalled the mountainous range from the maps he'd studied with Arwen back in Rivendell. She'd wanted to make sure that he knew where everything in Middle Earth was geographically.

Now that he was finally on his way…Harroshid paused to think about what he would do once he caught up with them. He couldn't very well just run up to them yelling 'Hey! Look! I followed you and you can't send me back!'

Harroshid had to laugh at the imagined look on Aragorn's face. The Ranger would be BEYOND miffed.

Though he knew he would be in trouble when Aragorn found out about Harroshid following them…man would that be a fun reunion…not.

He winced at the very thought of the words that his older brother-figure would have with him when he finally caught up. Oh man he would be in trouble. But how in the name of all the Elven stars could he stay home in Rivendell when the man that he loved like a brother was risking his life for the world with every step he took towards Mordor. His friends, Pippin and Frodo, were in danger as well…He wanted to be with them and by Goddess he was going to do it.

He had to catch up with them. That was all there was to it.

Now all he had to figure out was how he was going to try and introduce himself when he finally caught up…

Harroshid groaned, bumping the back of his head repeatedly against the rough tree bark as if he thought that killing his brain cells would help him with his current dilemma.

: Meanwhile, With Our Favorite Goddesses :

Arian looked down at the young wizard-turned-Elven-Prince. "Maier…I think he's having trouble."

Maier looked down into the mirror and sighed. "Oh poor thing. Maybe we should help him…"

Arian looked at her sister in absolute disbelief. "You…want to go and check up on him? But you were the one who said…"

Maier rolled her eyes. "Oh forget what I said. I'm bored, I need something to occupy myself with, and I'm just DOWNRIGHT PISSED!"

Arian rolled her eyes. "Ah…I get it now. Father's been on your ass again."

"You bet. All that stuff about finding a suitable husband…this is ridiculous…" she growled, grabbing her silvery blue cloak and throwing it around her shoulders as Arian did the same with her matching black cloak. "Let's go…"

The two interlocked their hands, heads bowed and eyes shut as they chanted, beginning the process of a transportation spell.

: Back with our little would-be Elven Prince :

Harroshid yawned, feeling extremely tired from three days of travel and no restful sleep. He had been pretty uncomfortable with sleeping out in the forest after spending nearly four full years in Rivendell…there was a lot of difference in sleeping arrangements. Of course he understood that a good night's sleep was going to be a rare luxury while he was on this journey. He understood but that did NOT mean he had to like it. Somehow it didn't feel strange to sleep in a forest, like he'd done it before…But he didn't want to think about that. Trying to think of what he'd lost made his head hurt.

The man had barely begun to give into the pull of sleep before a cool, floral-scented breeze swirled around his person, making him shiver as he sat a little straighter against the tree, trying to keep his eyes closed.

Harroshid finally gave into the pull of sleep, only to be awakened after what seemed to be him only just closing his eyes by a light voice.

_"Harroshid…"_ cooed the voice, soft and cool as a spring breeze around his face."_Harroshid, it's time to wake up."_

His green eyes fluttered and then fully opened, taking in the sight of the two beautiful women in front of him. "_W…what?"_

The blonde smiled softly, transforming the handsome face into one of unparalleled beauty. "_Ah, so you are awake."_ Her voice was soft and comforting; making Harroshid's startled blood calm and flow normally. Actually…he felt calmer than he ever had. Why was that? Did they have mental powers to calm those around them?

He knew some elves were born with naturally empathic abilities but this was just ridiculous!

_"Hello young Man Prince Harroshid Mordulin Undomiel of Rivendell. My name is Maier. I am a Goddess of Middle Earth and all those in between."_ She gestured to a blue-cloaked redhead next to her. _"This is Arian. She is my sister and a fellow goddess."_

Harroshid couldn't help but feel nothing but confusion. What was going on? Why were they here? Was he dreaming?

_"No, dear prince; you are not dreaming,"_ came the melodic voice of Arian, which was quite different from her sister's. Arian's voice made his blood boil faster than it ever had, and yet he still remained calm. Her presence made him feel alive, well, and calm. He no longer felt the fatigue or hunger that had been plaguing him since he had left Rivendell.

Some instincts never die...

Arian laughed at his thoughts. _"Oh don't worry, dear. You'll get back into your instincts. Young Aragorn wasn't used to it either until he kept going on small journeys for longer periods of time. Now he doesn't feel comfortable if he isn't going somewhere. I'm certain you'll be the same way…"_

Harroshid smiled. That was Estel all right. _"So…why are you here?"_

_"We have been looking over you, young prince. And we have decided that we shall aid you in your quest to prove yourself a worthy prince of Rivendell. We know that, though you tell yourself you are going to help the ones that you love, you are only trying to prove to yourself and others that you are strong enough to take care of yourself. For how can a prince who cannot protect himself protect his people?"_ This came from Maier, gazing at him like a mother to a beloved child. It reminded Harroshid of what Elrond had always told him about the gods and higher powers. They were as loving as a mother or father but as distant as the moon itself. _"Will you accept our help, Harroshid? We can only offer you few things, as we are not truly supposed to be interfering with the lives of those on Middle Earth. But we will offer you what we can to help you."_

Harroshid was silent for a moment, and they could tell that he was thinking.

_"How can I be sure that you are goddesses? I mean, for all I know you could just be a couple of girls from the next town trying to trick someone."_ The boy wasn't normally one for taking others at their word. He wanted to believe the best in others but…It would be too naïve if he did.

The two looked at each other then back at him appraisingly. He was a sharp one, though he had a long way to go before becoming the Savior he once was.

They smiled brightly. "_Well done, Harroshid! You were able to think around your human mentality and actually think logically!"_

Harroshid growled before he could stop himself. He hated it when people made fun of the fact that he was a son of Man. It wasn't his fault, damnit!

The two girls disappeared and then reappeared in a tree a few feet away. _"How is this, dear?"_

He blinked. How had they done that? Even Gandalf couldn't do that…He sighed. He had no choice but to believe them. And who was he to deny help when it was offered? _"Fine. I believe you."_

As if they had been awaiting those very words, the two then reappeared before him and Maier held something out with open hands. _"Here."_

It was a cloak. Plain black and clean-cut with the insignia of the goddesses as a clip to keep it together where normally a leaf brooch would keep his cloak together... Harroshid blinked. What was wrong with the cloak he was wearing?

Maier smiled. _"This cloak is known as an Invisibility Cloak. You can put it on in the place of your Elven cloak and once it is over your head, you will disappear from everyone's sight. But they will still be able to hear and feel you. So be careful. This way,"_ she winked, _"you can sneak up on your enemies without them taking physical notice of you. They will only notice that they are being followed if they are sensible."_

Harroshid smiled and took the cloak, nodding his head. _"Thank you, Goddess."_

Maier waved her hand dismissively, as if batting away the honorifics. _"You may call me Maier."_

Harroshid's head bowed in acceptance before turning to Arian. In her hands sat a long, thin length of wood. It was made of a medium-shade lumber, one Harroshid didn't recognize. But it seemed to thrum with power, flying immediately into his hand as if it were meant to be where it was if the feel of the smooth wood against his hand was anything to go by.

"_That is a wand carved from the wood of an Elder tree. You bear a magic inside of you that you can control with practice, young one. Listen to your instincts and use it as your focus. It will help you on your way."_

_"Thank you, Arian,"_ He said with an awed tone, even as he was distracted by the warmth that spread through him from the mere touch of the wand in his hand.

Watching him become reunited with the possessions from his original world, the goddesses shared a long glance before nodding and disappearing into the fading light of day, leaving Harroshid alone with his thoughts.

They'd done as much as they could, helping him along his way…

Eventually Harroshid Mordulin Undomiel would become confused, suspicious of his dreams of memory. But no one would have an answer for his questions when the time came…

Once they were gone, Harroshid's eyes became heavy again and he allowed himself to fall victim to the welcoming arms of the Goddess of Sleep, entering her realm to stay until the time so deemed he would be ready to awaken.

The time rose itself quicker than he had imagined.

A/N: Late update, I'm sorry… I'll update again as soon as I can.

Still looking for a beta…My previous ones still haven't gotten back to me.


	5. 05

Disclaimer: I, Star of the Morning Light, do hereby solemnly swear that I am up to no good and am gaining no monetary benefits from this story whatsoever. Just many, many sleepless nights and wishes.

Chapter Five: Entrance to the Mines

Rising slowly from the land of dreams, Harroshid's eyes fluttered open to look up at the sky. The fluffy white clouds that dotted the sunlit sky seemed to mock him as he groaned with a lazy tone in the back of his throat. The sun had obviously been up for a few hours so he knew he needed to get going or he'd never catch up with Aragorn and the others.

He sat up, looking out at the horizon through the trees. Harroshid smiled, looking down at the cloak in his lap. So it hadn't been a dream. He had hoped not.

Harroshid sighed, getting up from his place on the ground and grabbing a few things from his pack over Kinamonu's back. He pulled out some lembas bread, taking a bite and then washing it down with a swig of water.

Now full due to the effect of the lembas, he climbed onto Kinamonu's back and urged him forward. _"Come on, boy. We should be able to find Aragorn soon."_ Harroshid held onto the reins and urged him forward, but allowed Kinamonu to run as fast as he pleased. The trees raced by like blurs and Harroshid laughed at the feeling of sheer exhilaration that flowed through him. It was just like what he'd expect flying to feel like. The feeling of wind blowing past him, whistling in his ears, feeling his soul lift as he accelerated in speed…He could never get enough of this. Nothing could compare to this feeling.

But why did he feel like he'd done it so many times before?

Finally, as it neared mid-day, Harroshid slowed Kinamonu to a loping walk as the peaks of Caradhras came into his view. _"Shhhh, quiet boy…We're near the Pass of Caradhras now."_

Sighing as he finally climbed off of his horse for the first time of the day, Harroshid's emerald green eyes took in the scenery that surrounded him on all sides. From his lessons with Arwen, he had learned the general geography of Middle Earth. He didn't know where many things were, but Arwen and _Atar_ had made certain he knew where some of the more dangerous parts of their world were. In this area alone, Harroshid recalled the Pass of Caradhras as well as the Mines of Moria.

But as he stared up at the mountains in front of him, he saw nine dark forms heading to the base of the snow-covered mountain. They weren't using the Pass? Where were they going then?

It took mere minutes to see that they were heading towards the entry to the Mines. What in the name of Elendiel were they doing going down into the Mines? Tugging at his new cloak to make sure it was on correctly, he turned towards Kinamonu as he took his bag off the saddle. Slipping it under the cloak itself so that the Invisibility Cloak would hide it as well as him, he ran his hand over the nose of his favorite horse. _"I'm sorry boy; I don't think they'll let me take you."_

The dark, wise brown eyes of his beloved stallion stared back at him. Understanding shone in those eyes. He gently nudged his head into his side, pushing him to the mines as if saying 'Go! Go!'

He smiled softly again. _"Thank you, Kina. Now, go home."_

Harroshid turned his back on his beloved horse and started towards the mines, only looking back once to make sure that Kinamonu had followed his orders. He had, loping back towards the woods that marked the trail back home to Rivendell…to father…to Arwen…Shaking his head to clear his thoughts of homesickness before it could start, he reminded himself that he had a job to do and he knew that there was no way to go back.

Harroshid took a deep breath and slipped the Invisibility Cloak over the pack on his back and over his head; he passed by a pond of water on his way to the entrance to the mines and noted that he couldn't see anything. He was completely invisible. There were still indents in the grass from where he stepped, and he knew he'd have to tread carefully through the gravel that would most likely line the way to Moria. He couldn't have them finding him too soon. Harroshid silently cursed in his head, thankful to every ethereal being that existed for the clumsiness of Hobbits and Dwarves to cover his not-so-graceful footsteps. He still stepped a bit too heavily for an Elf and he feared that it would never change.

But here he was, in the dank cave that held the door to the famed Mines of Moria. Watching the Fellowship making their way through the outlining strip of rocks that surrounded a vast and soundless lake, a cold pit of dread had firmly settled itself in Harroshid's stomach. The water unsettled him; nothing should ever be quite so quiet, so seamless unless touched by foreign hands. This cloak that he had been given by the goddesses was a rather wonderful gift. Unfortunately, even though it made him unable to be seen by any eyes, be they Man, Elf or Dwarf, it did not stop him from being heard.

Having to even his breath as he followed along the edges of the lake towards what Gandalf had shown them all to be a door that would lead them into the Mines, Harroshid summoned every bit of his Elvish raising to stand at the rim of the ragtag group so as to not be seen nor noticed.

Due to his training from Aragorn as well as _Atar _he was able to tell that the group was trying to keep the helpless Halflings in the middle of the group. Gandalf was the leader, obviously being the one to know the way with Gimli close behind him. Behind the short creature was the tall blond elf, Legolas, if he recalled correctly from Rivendell and between him and the Men were the Halflings. Unfortunately, after a rather fantastic show of Gandalf's ability to speak whatever language he had long since come across, the aged wizard could not open the door.

'Speak friend and enter…' stated the door, its words illuminated to a near blinding quality as if to taunt them. A whispered warning from Aragorn behind him made him smile, noting how his friend seemed to worry about the smaller creatures. They were small and rather harmless-looking, but Harroshid couldn't help but recall that Hobbits lived rather long lives.

Finally after what seemed like hours, Frodo seemed to get it.

"What's the Elvish word for friend?" asked the young hobbit of his elder mentor.

_"Mellon…"_ muttered the wizard, and the doors slid open with a loud grating sound that made those of a more sensitive hearing wince just barely in silent complaint.

Walking with them as they made their way into the mine, Harroshid had to fight to pay attention to the Dwarves' rambling even as a horrible smell filled his nose. It was a rancid, sour odor. Dust and blood and rot continued to barrage his senses, making bile rise in the back of his throat with a sour taste in his mouth now.

Only when Boromir spoke did he break away from the reverie the mere smell put him into.

"This is no mine…it is a tomb."

Harroshid started, having hidden behind a column just behind them near the door.

Gandalf lit up the cave, shedding light upon skeletons upon skeletons…one of which was conveniently next to Harroshid's foot.

Cobwebs clinging to the spaces between alabaster-white bones showed that these bodies had been dead for quite a while. Harroshid bit back a choke, not wanting to give away his current location. Even the slightest unnatural sound would alert the elf to his location. And that would not do well for him.

At the moment he didn't quite understand why he was hiding…but he knew he wanted to make sure that the others couldn't send him home at this rate. If they were deep within the mines, he'd never find his way out without someone having to break away…He didn't want to cause that much trouble but…He felt that he needed to be here.

The group started to run out, just as Frodo was caught in the tentacles of…something… It looked like a carnivorous shark-like squid. A black monstrosity of spikes, gnarling teeth and pure unadulterated rage that seemed to border on madness.

Harroshid had to force himself to not rush out to help them as Aragorn and the others proceeded to cut down the many arms of the creature, only to run back into the mines they had tried to escape.

The squid pulled itself up onto land with great heaving tugs of its monstrous limbs, the pure girth and strength causing the arched entryway to come crumbling down over the entrance to the mines, locking them all in with a clattering of rocks, choking dust and the disappointed growling of the creature on the other side.

Harroshid heard Gandalf sigh in the dark as he lit his staff for a brighter source of light. "We have no choice. We shall now have to face the long dark of Moria. It is a three day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence shall go unnoticed. Be careful; for there are more dangerous things than Orcs in the dark places of the world."

Gandalf led them all down the way, through the winding staircases and beautifully carved pathways for what seemed like hours. The dark-haired man could hardly believe that they were here. But where were all of the Dwarves? There was no way that they would leave all of their work here to rot…

But suddenly, Gandalf admitted that he had no memory of a fork in the road, both tunnels seeming to lead endlessly down into the dark passages of Moria. The group dispersed over rocks, trying to remain as quiet as they could so as to not disturb anything else of which wrath could be incurred from.

What Harroshid could not see at the moment with his back turned to the group, was the grey eyes of Legolas warily flickering this way and that. The Woodland elf had felt as if he was being watched by some unseen specter since they had entered the Mines and it was beginning to ruffle on his nerves. Even through the beginnings of his paranoia, he barely moved when he sensed Aragorn taking his seat next to him. _"What is on your mind, Legolas?"_ asked the Ranger of the North, concern beginning to show through for his comrade.

_"I have the feeling we are being followed. But I fear I can not catch a glimpse our stalker. Nor can I truly sense him. It is a very disconcerting feeling."_ The pale-haired prince did not like that they were obviously being followed but could not see or truly sense by whom or what.

Aragorn nodded. _"Yes. I have felt it too. But I cannot see what has been following us. It's been close behind us since we entered the mines. I do not feel any darkness or ill intent. I doubt it's an adversary."_

As Harroshid concentrated on the area around them as well as the conversation passing to and fro between Aragorn and Legolas, he did not notice the Hobbit sitting down on the edge of the cliff beside him until he felt the undeniable tug on his cloak…A tug that yanked the cloth aside just enough for the curious young Hobbit to catch a glimpse of a tanned hand.

Gasping in shock at the sudden appearance of skin on top of what should have been grainy rock and dust, Pippin jolted up from his spot, stumbling and falling on his bum a few times before he ran over to Aragorn. "Aragorn! There's something over there! It's on the edge of the cliff!"

The yell of Pippin caused the entire group to go on high alert, hands on their various weapons as the Ranger edged towards the cliff. He could hear a shuffling sound along the ground, as if something was trying to get away from him. The thing was invisible yet it could not make itself unheard…and the sight of footprints on the ground led him to believe that it could not erase its presence completely either. Those were not the tread markings of an Orc or a Dwarf. They seemed like one from a young man.

Shifting away from Aragorn in a slow shifting of his feet along the cliff wall behind him, Harroshid stood no chance when the dark-haired Man grabbed a handful of his cloak just as he took a step backward and tripped over a conveniently placed rock. The trip caused the cloth to jerk itself over his head, sending their intruder tumbling backwards into the arms of one Legolas Greenleaf.

The blond had only a few moments to admire the green eyes and thick black hair before Aragorn spoke up. "Who are you? And what do you want with us?" asked Aragorn, shifting to stand in front of the Hobbits with a hand on his sword and the cloth laying discarded on the floor as the elf tightened his arms around the dark-haired prisoner.

Even as the boy struggled and cursed mightily in Elvish and Dwarf in a way that belied the fine quality of his tunic and pants that Legolas could feel undeniably, Gandalf gave a sudden fond smile and shook his head in what appeared to be a show of amusement. "Let him go, Legolas…I believe I know who our visitor is."

A/N: Yes, yes, cliffhanger. But I needed to split up this chapter SO badly. The original was twenty-something pages long in Word. Anyway, thanks be to the almighty angel that is my beta, Eneth nin Galasriniel. Due to a system error of my hard-drive I have to track down my old USB drives for this story. Hence the wait…But thank you and I'll try to have the next chapter up in a week.


	6. 06

Disclaimer: I, Star of the Morning Light, do not own or claim to own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings as they belong to their respected authors and affiliates who allow us to enjoy them and think of them in our own light.

Chapter Six: The Return of Magic

Aragorn son of Arathorn was not one to be easily confused or befuddled. Nor was he one to be taken by surprise or easily angered. Somehow, the thought of Gandalf knowing exactly who was following them was a little unsettling to the Ranger of the North. Running a hand through thick and curling hair, he couldn't help the deep sigh that escaped from his lips. He was beginning to have a guess as well… "Legolas…show him to us."

Holding tightly to their stalker was easier said than done as elves were not truly known for physical strength and this man was just barely shorter than himself. But he did as he was bid and turned his captive around to allow the camp to see a horse tail of black hair that was oddly familiar, Elvish riding clothes and rather large green eyes…Eyes that were a hesitant mixture of determination and fear. The boy knew he was caught.

"Harroshid!" yelped Pippin and Frodo in joy, running forward to give their friend a rather exuberant hug that almost sent the human male toppling backwards into the tender mercies of the elf once again. "AH! Oi, you two, stop trying to make me fall over!" He said, but his face and eyes were alight with happiness at seeing his Hobbit friends again.

Unfortunately not all of the party was as happy to see their Elvish-raised friend. "Harroshid…?" He said, his head hanging slightly with a hand holding his forehead, unable to believe that the young man had the gall to follow them. He didn't bother to ask what the other man was doing in the Mines as it was rather obvious to all and he wasn't in the habit of asking stupid questions.

Legolas looked just as surprised as Aragorn to see the adopted son of Elrond was their invisible stalker. Leaning over to pick up the fallen cloak, he shifted it in his hands with confusion. The fabric was soft, the kind used for robes to keep one warm and yet even in the cold depths of Moria the cloth held no temperature of any kind. But the clasp that held it together was what truly confounded him. The metal was not one he was familiar with but it seemed to have a great significance to a deity if the phoenix and serpent tangling together, enshrouded by what looked like protective wings on the pin were anything to go by. Only two goddesses held such a sign and if they were looking after young Harroshid there may yet be hope for their Fellowship. Handing the cloak back to its owner, Legolas gave a slight bow of his head to the young prince. _"It is an honor to see you again so soon, Prince Harroshid of House Elrond."_

Harroshid took his cloak back and settled it against his shoulders once again. _"Thank you, Prince Legolas Greenleaf. I apologize for attempting to deceive your party. I believe it's a tribute to the Hobbits and the Dwarves' clumsiness that I made it this far undetected."_

The young man's humor made a soft chuckle escape the woodland elf, having a small laugh at the Dwarves' expense. A clearing of a throat behind the both of them made them turn around, facing Gandalf as he pointed down a pathway. "I believe I have found our heading, gentleman. The air is far less stale down this way…when in doubt, always follow your nose." He nodded, beginning to make his way down the slight incline leading them further down into the Mines.

His hands gripped on either side by a Hobbit, Harroshid stole a glance towards Aragorn as they began to walk. The man did not seem to be looking at him, but Harroshid could tell by the set of the man's shoulders that he was not happy at the moment. Biting his lip, he hoped that the older man would wait until they were out of the Mines to have a go at him. But his thoughts were torn from Aragorn as Pippin tugged on his arm to get his attention. "So you followed us Harr?" He asked, butchering the young man's name as he always did.

"Yes, I believe I did…" Harroshid smiled, unable to keep it off his face as he talked with the energetic Hobbit. He was probably older than Harroshid himself but he acted like such a child at times it was endearing.

"But why?" asked Merry, who was walking just in front of them…Gimli, Boromir and Legolas took up the rear of the party. The entire group was still talking in hushed voices, not wanting to call attention to their presence until they had reached the outside of Dwarrowdelf.

"Well I couldn't very well let you have all the fun now could I?" He joked half-heartedly, ruffling the top of the smaller Hobbit's head. He found it funny that almost every single Hobbit he'd seen as of yet all had curly hair.

Harroshid jumped when he felt the meaty hand of Gimli slap against his back, the short Dwarf giving a grin at the Elf-dressed Man. "Good choice, lad! A man-like choice, it was. You want the thrill of adventure, don't ya?"

This caused Harroshid to pause, wondering if somehow the Dwarf's helmet squeezed his head too hard. "Um, it actually is a bit…"

"O' course ya do!" The Dwarf continued on with his spiel as if the dark-haired Man had not spoken. "You're a brave man, I can see. Good trait for an elf, as not many have it."

Legolas, fist clenched rather visibly and shoulders tense, was chanting something underneath his breath as if it were a calming mantra for a sage's training. It sounded eerily akin to: Don't kill the dwarf.

Biting back a snort of laughter, Harroshid smiled rather tightly at the curly-headed mass of brown and metal that was the Dwarf. "Excuse me, Master Dwarf, but I would appreciate if you would be so kind as to not insult my family whilst I am in your immediate company and there is an elf rather close to you."

Gimli, for all his bravado and pride, seemed rather confused as he tried to decipher what the young man had told him. The boy was dressed like an Elf, had the hair of an Elf and carried Elven weaponry. Finally the dwarf gave up and shook it off as Elvish nonsense. Those blasted Elves always wanted to confuse every other race with their 'wisdom'.

Legolas himself was having similar thoughts about their new companion. He could not rightfully label him in his head as to what race the boy seemed to hail from. He donned Elven cloth, he bore the light of Elendiel about his throat like many of the Undomiel line did themselves, and yet his appearance was human due to the rounded shell of his ears. A conundrum wrapped in a riddle and thrown into a whirling dervish to keep it all sufficiently muddled.

Standing amidst the Hobbits and the Men behind him, Harroshid tried to ignore Aragorn's rather effective 'silent treatment' as he kept his attention focused on the trouble-making little Hobbits that seemed to surround him. They were very joyous and easily pleased creatures, it seemed. Odd that they looked so like humans themselves were it not for their rather large, hairy feet and small stature. Immersing himself in the quiet chatter of Pippin and Merry, but paused in his step to note the way that Pippin's feet seemed to drag on the ground.

The boy had already proclaimed that he was hungry, but he was apparently becoming tired as well. Smiling, Harroshid tapped the smaller being on the shoulder before he knelt down out of the way of the path of the others as he allowed Pippin to climb onto his back to give the young thing a rest. Arwen had told him before that he was too kind for his own good. It was quite a sight to see, a young man carrying a Hobbit piggy-back.

Legolas, slowing his step to stand beside Aragorn and Boromir who kept up the back of the line, cleared his throat. "It would appear that our new companion has a soft heart for the Hobbits." The dark-haired Ranger was silent; his eyes concentrating on the group at large but frequently flickered back to the Hobbit-toting young lord. Watching Aragorn's face for a moment, Legolas nodded. "I see. You are angered at your friend's appearance. It seems odd that he would come all this way to join on such a perilous journey…he is the adopted son of Lord Elrond, correct?"

Aragorn nodded, feeling a never-ending coil of inner turmoil at the sight of his love's dearly beloved younger brother being so carefree in the midst of an empty Dwarf dwelling. He was not just angered. He was currently furious that the young man had lied to him.

But all thoughts of his anger fled his mind as Gandalf lit the light upon his staff a bit brighter, bringing their eyes to attention in wide wonder of the marvelous carvings of Dwarrowdelf.

Harroshid's green eyes flickered over the grand foundations of the buried city, walking slowly with the Hobbits as they passed divider after divider, the Hall never seeming to end. As the Fellowship walked the path of the halls, it was not long before the hollow sound of their feet hitting the hard stone paused at a sudden outcry from Gimli.

The dark-haired Dwarf ran from the group, running towards a wide-open double-door strewn with what appeared to be the skeletal remains of Orcs and Dwarves alike. The entirety of the chamber was coated in dust, dirt and the smell of rotting flesh filled the mouth with a rancid taste upon every breath. A single shaft of light shone down from the ceiling, bringing to stark reality the burial chamber of Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.

Gandalf read off the burial inscription, his voice saddened with the soft exhalations of woe from the kneeling Dwarf. "It is as I feared…" The wizard sighed, removing his hat from his head and handing his hat and staff to Pippin after Harroshid dropped the boy from his back, turned to glance at the rest of the gathered Fellowship. Pulling a large, dusted book from the skeletal fingers of a Dwarf whose remains leaned against the sarcophagus of the fallen Lord, he opened it; pages and dust flying as he attempted to read the scrawling ink upon the pages.

"We must move on. We cannot linger." Legolas warned quietly, standing guard near the door with Aragorn.

Heedless, Gandalf read the scribbled warnings aloud from the book. "They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates," he read, not looking up from the grave telling of the tragedy before them, "But cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums…drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming." Gandalf finished, looking up at the Fellowship from the book, stunned silence surrounding the small group before a rattling crash made every wary bone jump inside of their bodies.

Whirling in place, nine different pairs of eyes concentrated on Pippin, his curiosity having knocked a skeleton into a well, the chain and bucket attached to it dragging down as well, echoing through the deceptively empty city. Pippin winced with every sound, looking wary as Gandalf slammed the book shut.

"Fool of a Took. Throw yourself in next time and rid of us of your stupidity." He snapped, yanking his hat and staff back from the sheepish and shame-faced Hobbit. The old man either didn't care or didn't notice the silent glares he received from Harroshid and the other Hobbits as the dark-haired man shifted closer to Pippin, a hand going to the other man's shoulder.

As suddenly as the silence had returned its reign, a soft drumming in the distance froze their hearts in their chests. The drums slowly began to boom louder, echoing in the chamber through the hole in the floor to create a cacophony of sound as it mixed in with the screams of something blood-thirsty in the depths of the city.

A quick glance at Sting, Frodo's sword, told them all they needed to know from its blue glow. Orcs…

Boromir ran to the door, preparing to pull it shut as two black arrows embedded themselves in the door.

"Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn ordered, turning his back on the Hobbits and Harroshid as he dropped his torch to help Boromir pull the door shut against the resounding growls and screams of the coming army.

Upon shutting the doors, Boromir let out a sound of humorless laughter. "They have a cave-troll…" The two Men used axes from the floor to try and seal the door shut, hoping to give themselves some needed time from the inevitable onslaught.

In a show of bravado few of them felt, the Hobbits all drew their swords as one, echoing Gandalf's own movements even as Gimli pulled himself up on top of his cousin's grave. "Let them come!" He growled, anger showing close to madness and need in his eyes as the door began to shift and shake. "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

Legolas and Aragorn both trained arrows on the door, ready to shoot the first ugly face they saw pass through the door as axes cut away at the nearly rotted wood of the barricaded door. The arrows the two shot through the holes in the door did little to stop the sudden caving in of the wood, revealing a small army of ugly, twisted Orcs as they growled and ran at their ten adversaries.

The Hobbits used every bit of Aragorn's and Boromir's training to run forward, slashing and stabbing at anything that didn't look like a friend as the Men slashed and hacked at heads and body parts and Harroshid joined the fray. None of them had time to pause as a chain-bearing Orc yanked an angry and ugly cave-troll rambling through the stone walls of the entry hall.

Arrows did nothing to stop the grey mass of violence as it swung its meaty hands that gripped a large stone mace everywhere it could find purchase, sending the nearby Hobbit scrambling under its clumsy form. The bumbling thing tried to smash its foot down on top of Sam, but a quick yank on its chain from Aragorn and Boromir to send it scrambling backwards. Unfortunately poor Boromir, in a show of bad movement, was yanked across the room on the same chain and thrown into a nearby wall with the same Orc who had brought it into the damned room.

Harroshid ducked and wove his way through the attacking throng of Orcs, taking a deep breath as he thrust his sword, his gift from Aragorn when he'd shown promise as a swordsman, through the chest of a rushing Orc. The dark-haired human could feel it drag through the flesh and bone, felling the twisted creature to the floor as Harroshid's mind shut off, letting Orc after Orc fall under the warming metal of his sword.

After every five dead Orcs, Aragorn would glance towards Harroshid to see him fairing quite well. The black blood of the orc was staining his hands and splattering over his clothing. His hair, which had grown well past his waist over the seasons, was pulled back into a long braid that flew behind him like a banner as he fought with all of the skill that he could muster from his training.

The growling baying of the troll made Harroshid's mind haze and he shook his head, trying to shake the feeling that he'd done something like this before. He could see vague shapes in his head…words he could hear…Although the sight of Legolas standing on it's shoulders didn't seem to lighten the images any.

Harroshid yelped, ducking under the spear of another Orc before killing it, his eyes turning to concentrate on the troll as it swung the club-like mace this way and that. A warmth flooded his hand and he remembered the stick of Elder wood the goddesses had given him. Was this what it was meant for? Ducking under another Orc's club, he ran to the shattered remains of Balin's grave, climbing up as the warmth continued to build in his hand. It was as if his hand was going to set itself aflame…Shifting his sword to his left hand, the dark-haired boy dug the length of knobbed wood from the base of his skull where he'd slipped it into his hair and pointed the stick, feeling very silly, at the troll's weapon. "Wingardium Leviosa!" He yelled, hearing the words clearly in his head with an echo of a voice oddly like his own but higher, younger…

The club wrenched itself from the troll's hand as what felt like lightning shot through Harroshid's fingers, shattering the stone-carved instrument on impact with the stone ceiling, showering the Orcs below with a spatter of gravel and chunks of ceiling. Harroshid stood upon the sarcophagus in shock, staring at the unconscious orcs spread out over the floor even as the troll yanked a spear out of a falling orcs hand.

How had he done that? What was that voice in his head…was that him? But how? Pain escalated through his arm and he winced, alerting himself back into reality as the few orcs still spread throughout the room continued to fight, the troll not seeming to care if it hit Orc or any of the Fellowship.

A pain in his arm alerted him back to his current situation and he continued to try and fight off the Orcs with the others. Across the room, Harroshid hardly noticed the troll closing in on the Hobbits as Sam bopped Orcs hard over the head and flat in the face with a cast iron skillet.

Harroshid heard a sudden strangled scream and turned around, only to see Frodo being impaled by the spear of the troll.

"No!" he screamed, rushing forward. Anger burned through his every fiber of being, and words formed in his mind as that familiar burning sensation entered his stomach again, surging up through his hand. He growled and screamed out two words that reverberated through his mind, images of green light and screams echoing around them. "Avada Kedavra!"

A sudden green light shot out from his outstretched bit of wood (wand?) and hit the troll square in the chest. It fell over immediately, still as stone.

What in the name of Valar had he just done?


	7. Petition to Save Artistic Integrity

Hey guys, sorry to say that this isn't an update. My beta hasn't been getting back to me on the chapters so I may have to find a new one...I'm working away on the next chapter but due to work I don't know when it will be up. Please copy the petition below, sign it and post it into your own story to get this movement against the removal of stories with lemons or extreme violence in them to halt so that we, as writers and readers, have the free right to write and do as we please. Writers of Fanfiction Unite!

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be losing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

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